Playing with Fire
by indigowaterbears
Summary: Picks up right after the winter finale, Amelia is sitting at the bar and Riggs buys her a drink and another one and another. Amelia is relapsing, without a home and mad at the world. He wants to find a friend and Amelia is left without any. Amelia finds unlikely support in this mysterious guy and he finally makes a Seattle friend, that is, until Owen finds out.
1. one

_Before anyone has the opportunity to get angry, this will eventually be omelia, it arguably is already owen's just not it in (yet). I'm loving this, I've written already so much and I'm so totally curious what everyone thinks about it, because all I've read in other fics is Owen punching the guy. I thought, though, what if he's a nice guy and Owen's just mad at him for something? What if everyone was too quick to judge him? So there it is, Amelia dealing with relapse, being homeless, making this new interesting friend and leaving it all up in the air with Owen. All will be well, keep that in mind especially after next chapter._

* * *

It was the briefest moment, almost lost in the night, lost in the sea of moments coming and going. For once, Amelia was glad to make it past without paying too much attention, without remembering, without feeling. It was in that moment, the second she felt the burn of alcohol - a long forgotten sensation - which she intensely wished she knew if it was really worth it what it might do to her. It wasn't the alcohol, it wasn't the drugs it was her brain relaying too much on their effect. She knew that. Amelia was a world-class neurosurgeon and the way addiction worked wasn't lost on her. Every time she relapsed, the consequences were arguably worse and made it for a longer and harder climb back up. Today, though, her resolve was spent, it was gone. She was the first to preach about fighting, about not going down until every single last ounce of strength was gone, yet she was the first to cave. In that moment, the rational part of her, the one who remembered the pain of Ryan dying quite literally in her arms, the pain of giving birth to a child that would see the sun set - that part of her retreated into a corner, curled on herself. Because she couldn't fight anymore, she saw no reason to. Maybe, well, maybe if he hadn't been there, if he hadn't offered, she might have gone the entire night staring at the water in front of her, wishing she had the courage to order something stronger, courage that the next morning would turn into regret. He gave her that courage and, from her dark corner, Amelia could taste regret in that sip.

After the first sip, the rest of the drink followed faster and without as much thought – you know what they say, the first step is always the hardest. The surgeon sitting next to her was talking, but Amelia wasn't listening, her inner monolog too loud to allow any more sound to come clearly to her ears. All she could hear over the ringing in her ears was buzzing in the background, voices, white noise, nothing more. It was only when she raised her glass, getting a vague taste of vodka and mostly melted ice, that she finally looked up at him.

This guy had come in, he was just Kepner's friend from Jordan, he was supposed to be nobody from nowhere, disappearing into nothing right after. Instead, he was Nathan Riggs, he was a cardiothoracic surgeon and he was here to stay, and Owen hated him. Amelia felt a fresh jolt of pain curse through her at the thought of Owen and all that had transpired between them in the last few hours. In the last few days, really, but she could stand avoidance, she was the queen of avoidance, it was the way he'd pushed her away, the way he'd yelled at her like she was not much more than a disturbance, that hurt so deep she had to sooth it out with alcohol. That and Meredith, but she was too pissed to even think about her. He was looking at her, blue comforting eyes, growing more and more familiar as the vodka made its way down, as her vision blurred and her brain grew foggier. She should hate him, she should just out of loyalty to Owen, but she had had enough of loyalty tonight. She wouldn't hate him without a plausible, logical reason to – if hate could be rational at all. He was becoming a pariah and she hated that, she could relate better than most and even with a strong connection to the cool kids, she knew how hard it could be to fit in here, with Seattle's best.

He cocked his eyebrow, giving her a simple, lopsided smirk. "You want another one? Not sure you got to taste this with how fast it went down."

Amelia stared at him, processing the words made somewhat more interesting by the unusual accent, if not more appealing – but that might be the vodka talking, it surely sounded like something vodka would say. Switching between his eyes and the glass, she stopped to think about it, not to think of how many days of sobriety were going down the drain or how many people wouldn't sleep at night because of her, her thoughts were about that moment, right that moment. She looked back at him, giving a small smile, nodding as he addressed Joe.

Her poker face must have slipped with the alcohol going through her veins, after going for so long without it, it must have become quite obvious something was wrong with her. After a few failed tries to get her attention, his hand delicately touched hers and Amelia jumped at the sudden contact, eyes burning through her hand and his own. "Do you want to go sit there?" he nodded to an empty booth, in a dark, isolated corner of the bar. When her eyes widened and her hand retreated a little defensively, he specified. "Just… don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you could use getting away from the crowd."

Biting her cheek she looked for a sign, any sign, that his intentions were not what he'd just worded. Even in her dazed state she managed to get a look at him, his eyes, they were transparent, they hid no second end, no games and no secrets. Amelia let herself be lulled in the – possibly false – sense of security this mysterious guy gave her. Again, she nodded, scared of using words, not sure what would come out, trusting him not to push her – he didn't.

With a comforting smile he grabbed their drinks and walked to the booth, placing the glasses carefully on the table, standing back as she sat, letting her choose which side she preferred. Obviously, Amelia sat with her back to the wall, her overly annoying sister Kate would have spotted her vulnerable and defensive body language miles away. Without paying much attention he sat back, letting his inquisitive eyes roam on her, curiosity mixing with inquisition and sympathy. It wasn't what Hurricane Amelia generally accepted as a look a man would throw at her, but tonight she'd take it. Tonight she wasn't looking for a warm body or pills or anymore loss of control, strangely, Amelia was looking for comfort, something or someone to catch her as she fell.

"So," he started, looking at his drink before taking a swing. "I was thinking. I've been here for just a couple of days, but from what Keps told me you guys are quite the tight bunch. I saw it myself. I knew coming to work where Owen did was going to be like this, but… you really have each other's back. It's admirable."

Intrigued, Amelia looked at him, pausing her drinking. She narrowed her eyes, in her head she snorted loudly, _tight bunch my ass_. He was going somewhere and she found it endlessly interesting.

"Doctor Pierce, we butted heads, but it wasn't personal. Didn't feel like it." She saw his face do something, then, something she knew very, very well. It was disappointment, it was a shrug of his shoulders, his eyebrows raising just the slightest bit, his eyes averting her gaze. "Everyone else… I guess, it was stupid to think I'd get to come in and just work. In the army – it's not like this in the army, there's real need there, nobody cares. I guess here's different."

Nodding Amelia offered a smile, she felt for the man.

Tipping his glass, letting the rest of it into his mouth, he proceeded to put it back onto the table, waiting a few seconds for the burn in his throat to lessen, before he looked back up at her. "What I was thinking is, why are you here? Alone. Why aren't you shooing me away like everybody else? I was going to ask Keps to come, but then I saw you and I figured after getting shot down so many times, one more wouldn't hurt. Imagine my surprise when you didn't." He smiled at her and Amelia felt a little less alone. It wasn't him, she wasn't sure, but it was certainly the knowledge that there was someone else not all that far away feeling as crappy as she was. "Not that I'm complaining."

Amelia traced the hem of her glass thoughtfully. She could already see the table through the bottom, this one was gone as well, yet she didn't feel it. You'd think after years of not drinking it would have more of an effect, but all Amelia felt was empty, no matter how much she drank that's all she felt. "They are tight." She finally said, not looking up at him. "They have a hard time with new comers. It's hard to find a way in. They have your back up until they throw you out on your ass. You're part of that infamous inner circle until you're sitting at a bar alone."

"Wow, okay." He sighed, grabbing her glass from her hands and standing. "You sound like you need another one."

What Amelia needed was to turn back in time, preferably several years ago when she was fired from the most prestigious neuro fellowship in the country, before all the dead boyfriends and friends and babies and brothers. That would be perfect, but as it was established was anything but perfect, she'd take a few hours, ten or twelve should work. Back when she had a house and a sister and… Owen. It was ridiculous how much crap could happen in such little time. A few hours ago she'd been sober for so many days most people would lose count. Now it was easy, now she was at zero.


	2. two

He was sitting in front of her, on the table there was another drink, and Amelia knew she should stop, but all that strength she prided herself on having was gone. "Here. Now you can tell me the whole story – if you want. If you need to talk, I can sit and listen, I'm an awful good listener, but I can just sit here if what you want is to sit with someone. Or I can go-"

"No." Amelia said, not realizing how needy she sounded until she heard her own voice. "You don't have to go. It's fine. I know what it's like to be rejected by them. We can just… sit here."

He nodded, leaning back comfortably into the worn leather of the couch. "Okay, then. I'm Nate." Nate said with a smile. "I know we've met, but it feels weird to call you Doctor Shepherd right now. It would be fine, but-"

"Amelia."

"Amelia." He tested it out, letting it roll on his tongue, coming out in an original version altogether. Amelia knew her name was pronounced by every single person in a different way. She was partial to Owen's drawl of the vowels, for some reason it was her favorite. "Pleasure."

She tipped her glass after him and took another sip, and another and another. This glass was emptying even faster than the last one. It was Joe probably pouring less and less each time, that made sense. Funnily, that made sense right now, amongst all the things she could think of it was easy and comforting to believe that, to believe something that made sense.

He looked at her with a smile and she relaxed. "Where do you fit in there, though? At the hospital, there doesn't seem to be much space for outsiders. Keps has been nice, but she's got a lot going on to keep me entertained. Everyone's following Owen's lead."

"Obviously I don't fit in there at all." Amelia mumbled, looking at the ice melting away from the heat of her hand on the side of the glass.

Nevertheless, he didn't believe her. The way his eyes narrowed, staring deeply into hers, as if he could read what was going on inside her head, as if he could know what the deal was without even asking. That – Amelia realized – would be awful because, then, he'd stop buying her drinks. The drinks were nice. "You do, though. I've seen you around, I've seen all of you around. You have your people there. I remember you went after Owen, the other day, you went after him."

"You're mistaken." Because if that had not happened, if Amelia had just minded her business without pretending she was anything but a colleague, but a person he would occasionally talk to, she wouldn't be here.

He didn't insist, but his arched eyebrow was a clear sign enough that he didn't believe her. "You'd think it would be Grey." He muttered, rotating rhythmically the glass between his fingers. "I heard the rumors going around. It's funny, when you work some place this big rumors are crazy. There was this one about me and Owen being past lovers." He chuckled darkly to himself. "And people were wondering what his girlfriend thought of it, if she was jealous or something, ridiculous, right?"

Amelia flinched at his words. She wasn't Owen's girlfriend, she definitely wasn't now. "Yeah, definitely ridiculous."

"Anyway," he went on, oblivious to the inner struggle Amelia was facing, not at all aware that she was feeling like all her insides were twisting on themselves. "It's fine, I can take it. I didn't come here to make friends, I came here to work, to start something new. Just didn't think it would be this hard."

Finally, after over a year, Amelia felt her issues and hopes and dreams voiced so clearly by a man she'd never dreamed to talk to like this. She'd come to Seattle for various reasons and she'd stayed at Derek's insistence and because she'd wanted a change in her life, a clean break from all the drama and darkness in LA. As they say, though, the grass is always greener. It wasn't even about Derek dying, chances were he would have died regardless of her presence there, it was about the rest. The only person she'd managed to get close to was Owen and even there it was and on and off sort of relationship where she knew she was only going to get hurt in the end. "I know what you mean. I've been here for almost two years and it still hasn't changed."

He snorted, maybe impressed, maybe thinking she was out of her mind staying. "That's… not comforting, but I'll take it. What's keeping you here?"

Amelia frowned, surprised at the question and feeling like it somehow unlocked a whole new perspective to her life. She never thought about it, but he'd hit the nail on the head with this one. Amelia had stayed per Derek's request and after he died Meredith had made amends and Owen was there. In a way Amelia had made it to the inner circle and for the brief time she'd been there, life had got incredibly easier. She had friends, she had Maggie and Meredith and whatever it was her and Owen kept getting themselves into. Now that it was all gone, it begged the question. "I have my job. It's a good job." She shrugged knowing how weak an excuse this sounded.

"Chief of neuro, right?" Amelia nodded numbly. "You must be one hell of a surgeon. I mean, I've read about your surgeries, but it's still quite the achievement at your age."

Something sparked inside of Amelia. Like a low burning flame, with enough alcohol, it burns like a fire. The imaginary alcohol had been praise, though. While actual alcohol worked on satisfying that on its own, praise from this man was an even more potent accelerant. "My age?" Amelia asked, tilting her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at him. "How old do you think I am?"

"Way too young to be head of any department. As I said, you must be quite the surgeon." He replied with a twinkle in his eye. Despite leaving in the desert for so long, he hadn't lived under a rock all this time and it didn't take a genius to make the connection. Shepherd and Shepherd, both incredible neurosurgeons, it wasn't that far of a stretch to assume they were related. As he knew that, he was also well aware of how the oldest Shepherd had tragically died last year. He wouldn't bring that up, but something still didn't sit right with him about this woman in front of him. "But I don't think that's why you stuck around."

Amelia snorted, feeling the last of her filter crumble down, dissolving in all that she'd drunk tonight. "You mean, like, a man? Cause I really don't do that." She ran from men.

A little taken aback by her defence he held up his hands in surrender. "No, hey, chill. The thing is, you're the only one who's even talking to me and I'm trying to understand why. Grey won't even let me work with her – I mean, I get it, I don't know what Owen said to you all and I don't need friends, but at least the decency of being professional - she's like a guard dog, damn it, every single time I'm around her it feels like she's Owen bodyguard."

When Amelia didn't answer, looking down at the empty glass in her hands, he feared he might have gone too far. "I'm sorry if you are her friend… or were, or whatever. Or if you're Owen's friend-"

"I'm not their friend or whatever." She echoed, eyeing the glass in her hands, resisting the urge to take one more sip, mostly water and the few drops of vodka remaining. "Not anymore."

He straightened up, following her eyes. "I'll get some water, you want another one of those?"

Amelia just nodded, feeling like it was a bad idea, but the talk about Owen and Meredith had left her no choice. She realized he would be devastated, when Owen would eventually find out about this, he would feel all the guilt in the world. He had been up there to take drugs from her, but today he'd failed in more ways than one. The Amelia that loved him, the still uncorrupted part of her that felt like she was imploding with all that pain, felt bad for him, she actually felt guilty for knowing he'd feel that way. The alcohol soaked part of her, though, was glad she was making him suffer, she relished in the notion that he wouldn't get away with just hurting her for the millionth time without any consequences.

He sat back down, placing the drink in front of her and she noticed his hand was reluctant to leave it. This was probably too much and even he knew it – what he didn't know was that she was a recovering addict, but she wasn't about to blurt that out.

"They have this thing, Owen and Meredith." Amelia started, taking a big gulp of liquid courage. "Meredith's best friend is Owen's ex-wife." She ignored his surprised look and the way his eyes widened up like saucers. "She's gone, she lives in Europe. Yet, it's like she never left. Owen lets her do, he doesn't care about anyone but himself and Cristina, he just doesn't. Maybe he wants to, but he just can't. Meredith encourages him, Meredith is a bully and Meredith is a stuck up bitch, quick to judge everyone but herself." Amelia looked up with a small smile, letting the sight of his green eyes comfort her, it made her feel safe – maybe just less alone in the world. "Don't feel bad if they don't like you, trust me, you're better off without them."

Green eyes sparkling at the crude words, he chuckled dryly. "Sounds like you and I have a lot in common." He smiled at her, alcohol clouding his judgement as much as it was clouding hers, his smile stretched more and more as she smiled back, resisting it at first, letting the adorable dimple on her cheek show. Out of its own volition, his hand flew to the other side of the table to cover hers, cold and clammy from the condensation on the glass she was still clutching even if it was long empty. Amelia's eyes flew down to the burning hot hand on hers, the touch felt so foreign and somewhat wrong, but in the haze of her brain right that moment, it mostly felt comforting. His eyes were calming and still and it relaxed her to be sitting right in front of this stranger. "Kind of screwed up, isn't it?"

A chocked laugh came out of her mouth and it made them both smile, sadly and dejectedly, but smile nonetheless. "Totally screwed up." She nodded at him, finally letting herself smile. "But screwed up is what I've done all my life. It's fine, I'd be worried if it was normal, honestly." Words tumbling onto the other, maybe because she wasn't sure she should just out all her dirty laundry to this guy she barely knew or maybe because she'd had too much to drink. In an effort to recover from a near slip she looked down, noticing for the first time his thumb stroking gently the skin of her hand, half frozen and numbed to the point where she didn't feel anything anymore. "I'm kind of a mess. Like a huge mess, one of gigantic proportions."

"Come on," he prompted after a beat, standing up in a rush, tugging her hand with him. "We've had enough. I can walk you home."

Amelia looked at him for a second, sluggishly processing the words coming out of his mouth. Her blue eyes were staring into is green ones and she just couldn't get her brain to kick start, all she felt was his hand pulling hers along and in a second she felt panic course through her. She felt alone and she felt like this man in front of her was a complete stranger and all she wanted was Owen. For a few seconds, before she figured it out, all she wanted was for Owen to walk through those doors and spot her. He wouldn't. It took a little bit, but she eventually realized he wouldn't and this – Nate, he was not a stranger, he was a colleague. Maggie liked him, so it was good enough.

As if sensing her struggle, he bent down to her level, slowly and carefully – he'd drank almost as much as she had. "Hey, are you okay? You want me to call someone?"

She wanted him to call someone, but she didn't and she had to thank ethylic alcohol for that little bit on overly linear thinking. Amelia took a big breath, feeling the tears in her eyes still, not threatening to fall anymore. Shaking her head and wiping them off hastily with the back of her hand, Amelia looked back up at him. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I'm really okay."

"No worries." He grasped back her hand and tugged her up, standing next to him. Seeing her unsteady equilibrium he snaked an arm around her waist. "Sorry, but I don't want you to fall and crack your head open, I don't do brains and I doubt you can fix your own."

Her laugh was free and completely uninhibited. "Well, don't break your heart then, cause I'd be just as useless as you."

He chuckled at the nonsense, guiding her out of the bar, keeping his hand strictly between her hip and ribs, never staying, never pressing more than necessary. As soon as they were out the door he stopped, leaning against the wall for a second, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone, resting Amelia against the wall. It was mostly deserted and icy cold, they were the only ones there. He glanced at the clock quickly, thanking whoever was listening that he had a late shift tomorrow, because there was no way he'd get rid of the hangover before morning. Checking briefly the on call schedule he also made sure Amelia didn't have to go in, she was way worse than him. When he couldn't find her on the list he turned to her. Her body was leaning heavily on his and her eyes were half closed. "Hey, hey, no falling asleep." he shook her a little, "What time do you start tomorrow?"

"Day off." Amelia mumbled, not even sure how she managed to retrieve that piece of information from all the fog her brain was right then.

"Good. That's good, really good. Now just point me in the direction of your house and you'll be in bed before you know it." he said with renewed chirpiness.

In a split second, it all came crashing down on her. Today she had lost her sobriety, she'd lost years of hard work, she'd lost her boyfriend, she'd lost her sister, her family and her house. Amelia had lost everything today. Tears came back to her eyes with a vengeance, blurring her already diminishing vision, and her lower lip trembled as she patted the pocket of her jacket with the keys. Drawing in a ragged breath she looked forward, willing the tears to go away, to freeze and just fall to the ground as little icicles, breaking in a million pieces. "Just take me to the hospital."

His frown was mostly cute. His judgement and reason, his cognitive process not much clearer than hers and he felt like he had just missed something there. "The hospital? It's your day off tomorrow. I'm taking you home."

"I don't have a home." Amelia said cuttingly, her words stinging more than the freezing old air on their heated skin. "I don't have anywhere to go, just take me to the hospital."

"Nuh uh." He insisted. "You have to have a home."

In an effort to avoid his inquisitive gaze Amelia turned her head into his chest, effectively blocking her face from his view. "Meredith kicked me out. So, no. I don't have a home or a house or anything like that. I don't have anything."

Finally feeling the real Amelia slip out with her words, his heart broke for her. He didn't know her, he had no idea who she was and he had no idea why she was there in the first place. His new start here in Seattle had been rough enough, but apparently it was nothing compared to what Amelia was going through after years of living here. Before he could properly think, he cupped her cheek, turning her head up so that he could look into her eyes. "No, hey, that's not true." Her piercing blue eyes stared at him, a scowl on her face. He smiled down clumsily, letting his thumb trace the curve of her cheek bone, causing her eyes to flutter for a moment. "You're obviously successful, you have a kick ass job and you're brilliant at it. You're a damn neurosurgeon and you're the boss and you're amazing at it. There's tons of stuff published about you."

It was all true and, despite that, it didn't offer any comfort to Amelia. Her achievements in the medical field were impressive and warranted attention and pride from her, but all she could see was that it wasn't enough. It used to be an endless comparison with whatever Derek was doing, what he'd done better or worse, what he'd done that she hadn't yet. Now it turned into a nightmare, the thought of her brother the god of neurosurgery was still there, but he wasn't. He wouldn't be achieving anything anymore and another jolt of pain shook her body awake. "Yeah, well, I just spent my night alone at bar with… my job feels like nothing right now. Yay me, I can put my hands inside a brain and fix it, but I don't have anything or anyone else. I don't even have my freaking car here."

Catching the lone tears that slipped down her cheek he gave her a warm smile. "Okay. You're smart and you're straight forward and you're funny." Amelia seemed to perk up at that, nothing new, but her framed degrees wouldn't help her find a bed for tonight. All that she had managed to accomplish had vanished. He said nothing for a little while, they just stood there, precariously, leaning into the wall and into each other, the hot puffs of their breaths the only movement visible, smoke dissipating in the cold air of winter Seattle. "Also," he started again, drawing her back to reality, from the fuzzy, dark place her brain was travelling to. "Also, you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

As his words sunk in, Amelia felt a mixture of feelings well up inside her. Not able to think clearly, she let herself be lulled by those words, missing the worship of someone caring for her, someone putting her first, someone in her corner, always. It felt different, it didn't feel the same as when Owen would merely look at her – that had the power to make her knees give out, but Owen was done, whatever that had been was done. It was over and suddenly those words took on a whole new meaning. While still unfamiliar, she leaned into his touch, relishing in the burn of his warm hand on her icy cheek.

"Really, you're gorgeous." He said. He didn't do anymore than stroke her cheek and Amelia felt herself breath a little easier. It wasn't the suffocating feeling she had recently, he was keeping at a distance and respecting her and she hadn't seen that in quite a long time. Certainly, she would have never expected it from the hot shot cardio surgeon, coming out of nowhere to turn her life upside down.

It was his fault. In the haze Amelia realized her and Owen had fought over him, not directly, but in a way that was the point and her fight with Meredith had been because of him. This man was the reason her life was falling apart and she was letting him. She should probably shoo him away, walk herself to the hospital and get herself to a meeting first thing in the morning, she should throw away her chips and call Charlotte, maybe go down to LA for a few days. She should get her stuff out of Meredith's and find some place else to put it. Amelia wasn't going to do any of those things. The problem with addiction and self destructive tendencies was that they fed off these kinds of situations and tonight was going to be no different.

"But," he started, looking away for a moment. "but you look so broken. People like you shouldn't look this broken."

Amelia felt more tears made their way down her cheeks. He'd figured it out in the end. There was no way out of that, no way to pretend she was the next door girl for even just a night. No matter how many times she'd try, she'd never get to run away from herself. That was the hard truth she confirmed every single time she fell and tripped into herself. "I wish…" he wiped the tears delicately with his thumb, bringing her closer to his body, tightening the hand around her waist. "God, I'm so drunk I don't even know what I'm saying. I just wish… I wish I could see you not broken, nobody would have a chance against you then."

He shook his head, looking away and Amelia acted before her brain could wake from its peaceful slumber. Her hands were on his chest before either could register it, and her right hand travelled all the way up to his cheek, in the same exact position of his on her own cheek. She pressed turning his eyes up to meet hers. Their eyes locked and time stilled, neither was thinking clearly enough to do anything about what was eventually going to happen, instead, both his arms slid around her, pulling her closer to him and her other hand snaked around his neck.

It was just a kiss. One they probably wouldn't remember come morning, but a kiss nonetheless. It was warm and sweet and comforting, and Amelia felt safe in that brief moment. This was most likely going to be the biggest mistake of the night, but she never stopped or hesitated and he followed her lead, never pushing, but keeping up with her. Between alcohol and the kiss their wobbly legs swayed dangerously, until he pushed her back against the wall, hugging the whole of her, engulfing her in his arms. The more he pressed into her the more she pressed back, forgetting she was standing – rather, she was leaning against a wall because she couldn't really stand anymore – drunk, making out with a stranger. Not just any stranger, though, the stranger that was the cause of all the pain, of that pull that dragged her to a bar for the first time in years. This man was the reason Owen and her were not Owen and her anymore and maybe there was a part of her, deep down in the darkest corners of her, that took it this far to hurt Owen. Maybe that was true, maybe not. Because Amelia wasn't employing functions like thinking at the moment, she was lost in the moment, alcohol burning through her veins, a side of her rising like a phoenix from the ashes, burning anew and there was no stopping her now.

* * *

 _keep your pants on, I said this is omelia and I meant it._


End file.
